As her blood raced through her pounding heart, her body arched and arched, forcing her hips from the floor and pressing them against him, begging for more, for deeper, for more. He never slowed or quickened his pace, his tongue teasing and exciting and tormenting her flesh in even, long strokes until she screamed. But it was not enough. Something waited ahead of her, of them. Her muscles tightened, waiting, just waiting.
When he found some spot there and latched on to it with his lips and even his teeth, she lost everything that she was and shattered beneath his touch. Pinpricks of light flashed through her eyes, her body undid itself, pouring out some release. Aidan’s voice pierced the silence, urging her on in a fierce whisper she could not resist. The vibration of his voice against that sensitive, swollen flesh gave her more pleasure as she did as he ordered and screamed out her pleasure to him.
Barely able to open her eyes, she lifted her head and looked at him. The smile on his wicked mouth spoke of his absolutely male satisfaction at proving a point, but when it turned into something else, something more intense, she shuddered against the promise. He turned the promise into something real when he leaned forward and kissed her again. Open-mouthed, she kissed him back then, mimicking his tongue’s actions with her own, sliding hers deep in his mouth, tasting all that he was.
Cat reached up and wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through his hair and allowing herself to touch him as she’d wanted to for too long. Aidan pulled back for a moment and unbuckled his belt and untied the laces on his trews. He lifted his manhood out and skimmed his hand over the engorged flesh.
He would join with her now. He would take his pleasure now after giving her so much. Cat laid back down, took a deep breath and waited for the inevitable pain that would follow now.
‘Are you well?’ he asked her. She’d gone from alive with passion and in the throes of her release, one he gave her, to...to...this almost dead thing that laid beneath him unmoving, hardly breathing. The lovely flush of arousal was being replaced with a gaunt shade of what passed for fear. ‘What is wrong?’
Though his cock would argue, he would not simply take his pleasure on her without regard for that fear. She’d closed her eyes tightly and would not look at him. Aidan reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Catriona, I pray you, tell me what is wrong?’
Cat opened her eyes then and shrugged. ‘I am just readying myself,’ she whispered in a tone that was so wrong, as though she expected the worst from what they would do now.
Rage filled him and he wanted to find and tear apart whichever man had caused her to act like this. She mistook what his expression must look like and began to shake her head.
‘Take your pleasure. I am ready,’ she pleaded, grabbing for him as he moved off her and tied his laces. Her eyes appeared huge in her ashen face and he could see the tears gathering.
Aidan MacLerie had never once forced himself on a woman not willing and this would not be the first time. Whether she spoke the words or not, Cat did not consent to this joining. He leaned back on his heels, took her hands and helped her to stand.
‘Do you not want to...?’ she asked, in a quivering voice.
‘Aye, I do.’ He showed her the proof of his raging desire by taking one of her hands and placing it over clothed but still erect flesh. She gasped, but did not pull her hands away from him. ‘But that can wait until you are ready.’
Or until I can make you ready, he thought.
And he would. Aidan wanted the woman writhing in an explosion of passion, not barely able to suffer his touch as she was now, shaking and filled with fear or some strong hesitation that spoke of past mistreatment.
He helped her retie her laces, closing her shift and gown and shielding the voluptuous breasts he’d discovered hiding there. His cock throbbed again, reminding him of their thwarted satisfaction. With the musky smell of her own arousal and release still on his fingers, he helped her to one of the chairs and sought the cup and wineskin.
‘Here,’ he said, placing the cup in her trembling hands. ‘Drink this down.’ He’d not noticed any whisky among her cooking supplies. He would bring some or send some to her on the morrow. Sometimes wine was not a strong enough spirit. Sometimes only the brewed and aged uisge-beatha would handle life’s woes.
She sipped from the cup until he gently guided it up so that she drank it faster. Then, he went into the bedchamber and brought a blanket out and wrapped her in it. After stoking the fire in the hearth, he sat and watched her, waiting for the shaking to stop. Once he realised it was taking too long for her to calm down, he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedchamber.
Aidan half-expected her to struggle, but she only watched in silence as he stood her on her feet, tugged down the bedcovers and lifted her into the centre of the large bed. The look of acceptance baffled him until he comprehended that she thought he just wanted to tup in the bed and not on the floor. He had been the fool—he’d paid for a bed large and comfortable enough to suit him and instead, he’d almost taken her on the floor in the other chamber.
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he tucked her into the bed...alone. Her hand on his stopped him from leaving.
‘Aidan,’ she said. ‘I would ask...’
This was, he decided on hearing it, one way he didn’t wish to hear his name said. He pressed his finger to her mouth, stopping her from any kind of pleading.
‘Sleep now. We can talk on the morrow.’
‘But you...’ She tried to explain something, but he did not like the way it sounded either.
‘Take your rest. We will sort this out between us,’ he promised.
And they would. He’d felt too much passion within her to not want it all. He knew there could be even more. And he wanted to be the man, mayhap the first man, to taste it all. She laid back against the pillows then, her pale complexion nearly the same shade as the linens that covered the bed.
‘I will bank the fire and put out the candles, worry not,’ he said, leaning over to kiss her.
He wanted to taste her mouth, but settled for a soft touch of his lips to her forehead. He blew out the candle on the table by the bed and took some time to light a fire in this hearth, though with the thick layer of blankets on top of her, he doubted she would take a chill. Aidan knew her gaze followed him as he worked on the fire and then left, pulling the door closed a bit.
Trying to do the gallant thing and leave her be was the most difficult thing he’d done in a very long time, but it felt right. He laughed to himself then—he’d done more ‘right’ things since meeting Catriona MacKenzie than he had before. She could be very good for him.
She would be very good for him.
